Kathy’s weekend was so “fun” she used the word itself twice and 23 exclamation points to show us how much fun it was! There was exercise, more exercise, salad, and free cookies! First, she went for a “hot & sweaty run” with her baby and her jogging stroller.
Warm weather = exercise motivator!
(Yeah, revisit the Sonoran Desert when it’s 116 and report back on how that goes.)
Toting a asparagus and cilantro pesto and whole wheat (of course) pasta and spinach and zucchini and walnut salad
and a blanket with the “water-resistant bottom,” she and Bath Matt and Baby Accessory — I mean Carbz — went to Fridays After Five so they could get buttercream cupcakes from the cupcake food truck —
— and eat their friends’ “munchies,” high on going to a free concert sponsored by Bud Light where a random crowd shot shows four strollers, two children, and a grassy knoll of white people bored by their own procreative abilities. As are we, bored white people. As are we.
On Saturday, Kathy and her child
got up bright and early (like we do everyday…)
and went to the farmer’s market, where she made so many new friends because she was pushing a stroller and wearing an “Eat More Kale” shirt. His Royal Highness Her Kid also entertained an audience with the chicks who make patties out of not meat, and declared their lentils “baby approved.”
Duly adored, Kathy rewarded herself with a cinnamon pecan scone, but only because she knew how to eat it:
I don’t just pick a random baked good and dig in very often (because I’m obsessed with breakfasts at home), and I enjoyed this mindfully with every bite.
After returning home for “morning nap,” Kathy decided to head back to the market for “more walking exercise” — and so she could continue to procrastinate making a meal by eating one of the aforementioned meatless patties on fakery bread, “washed down” with a mint kombucha.
The afternoon disappeared into a black, scuffin-shaped hole while Bath Matt made a pizza containing:
Sauce, smoked gouda, sun-dried tomatoes and tomato sauce.
The big green strips covering everything? THOSE ARE SAUCE. IT’S ALL SAUCE. And because their child was asleep, the couple “celebrated” his unconsciousness “parent-style,” because who thinks of celebration without picturing poorly photographed dirty wine glasses sitting on planks that should have been put out for the grappler instead of made into furniture?
Bath Matt presented his blushing bride with the kind of gift you give some vague in-law you’ve always had a chilly relationship with: Some earrings you could have basically pulled out of a Claire’s and put a $28 price tag on, and a white card Bath Matt painted a bluejay on, to symbolize… his wife’s interest in millet?
Opening the card, we go from assisted living lobby bathroom art to a 2-second BOOBIES scrawl with riot-a-second Bath Matt.
But it’s okay. Bath Matt had more important things to worry about. Like the fact that his wife all of a sudden looked like she was being rescued from some tragic, period piece flashback sanitarium deathbed by a jar of random stuff she called a “parfait.”
Exhausted by the efforts of the morning, Bath Matt fell asleep and Kathy went to the gym, returning to the brunch (scorched bacon, bagels, mangos AND fruit, mimosas and Bath Matt’s quiche — the one he makes with that delightful thick wattle and daub crust) at what was apparently some kind of festive rendition site, so hush-hush are the details.
They left the mysterious brunch for “family fun time” and a glimpse into the puddle that is Kathy’s self-reflection pool:
<3 this little guy who made me a mama! Sometimes I still don’t even believe I’m a mom. I told someone recently “I have an 8 month old son” and it was a bit surreal.
And that’s what we get before the topic swings wildly to buying a few drab off-trend-for-your-”Seinfeld”-finale-viewing-party-15-years-ago items — jars, a wallet, a piece of cloth — at World Market.
Kathy concluded a weekend of being a “foodie” who can’t stand preparing food by going to her neighborhood association’s picnic.
Nothin’ like a potluck!! Especially the dessert table…
That’s right. There is literally nothing in the entire world like an event where you eat bean salad and pizza and brownies and things with toothpicks in them off paper plates. This is a singular occurrence. Potlucks with cookies and shit. This makes Stonehenge look like your neighborhood Smart & Final.
Also, Kathy, do we have to see your feet in every potluck shot?